Nor golden apples glimmer from the tree; Proud of his laws, tenacious of his right, Then, Jedworth, though thy ancient choirs shall fade, PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU. SIR WALTER SCOTT. Written for Mr. Thomson's Collection, on the return of the Highland regiment from Waterloo. PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu, Pibroch of Donuil, Hark to the summons; Come in your war array, Gentles and commons! M MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale! Why, my lads, dinna ye march forward in order? All the blue bonnets are over the Border. Mount and make ready, then, sons of the mountain glen Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing; When the blue bonnets came over the Border. The above spirited song, by Sir Walter Scott, was founded upon "General Leslie's march to Longmarston Moor," which appeared in Allan Ramsay's "Tea-Table Mircellany," where it is marked as ancient, and as one of which Ramsay neither knew the age nor the author. The old song is of little or no merit, but is inserted here as a curiosity, and as showing out of what rude materials Scott constructed the modern song, which has since become so celebrated. GENERAL LESLIE'S MARCH TO LONGMARSTON MOOR. March, march, why the deil dinna ye march? Till ye come to the English Border. Stand till't and fight like men, True gospel to maintain; The Parliament's blythe to see us a-coming. When to the kirk we come, We'll purge it ilka room Frae Popish relics and a' sic innovation, That a' the world may see There's nane in the right but we Of the auld Scottish nation. Jenny shall wear the hood, Jockie the sark of God; And the kist fu' o' whistles that maks sic a cleiro, Our pipers braw Shall hae them a'. Whate'er come on it, Busk up your plaids, my lads, Cock up your bonnets. OH, WHERE, TELL ME WHERE? MRS. GRANT of Laggan; born 1755, died 1838. Air-"The blue-bells of Scotland." OH, where, tell me where is your Highland laddie gone? Oh, where, tell me where did your Highland laddie stay? Oh, what, tell me what does your Highland laddie wear? Suppose, ah, suppose, that some cruel, cruel wound Should pierce your Highland laddie, and all your hopes confound. The pipe would play a cheering march, the banners round him fly, The spirit of a Highland chief would lighten in his eye. But I will hope to see him yet in Scotland's bonnie bounds, This song, founded on a more ancient one with the same title, was written for the collection of Mr. George Thomson after the death of Burns. The subject was the departure for the Continent, with his regiment, of the Marquis of Huntly in 1799. THE BATTLE OF VITTORIA. WILLIAM GLEN. Air-" Whistle o'er the lave o't." SING, a' ye bards, wi' loud acclaim, Let blust'rin' Suchet crously crack, He left upon Vittoria ; If e'er they meet their worthy king, Gi'e truth an' honour to the Dane, But Gi'e Britons a Vittoria. |